


Resetting the Counter to 000

by Einv13



Series: Modern AU and Other Indulgence series [8]
Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, M/M, no beta we die like real men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 15:02:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17941931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Einv13/pseuds/Einv13
Summary: A subtle form of submission for the man who wishes to create the tower of Babel. In his slumber, he was erected one.Belial would be estatic if he hear him say that.





	Resetting the Counter to 000

**Author's Note:**

> In few hours, a 1-year waiting of many GBF players will come to an end. Or a new beginning. Who knows. I know I've hit Belial enough to get a trophy in the rerun. Anyways, I will go with this ship for as long as ever.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Granblue Fantasy except this plotbunny of mine and the grammar mistakes.
> 
> Boy I wish they release Lucilius perfume too.

One of the gesture that Belial learned coming from the sky dwellers also include this.

 

"What are you doing exactly, Belial" it was a tone on inquisition, not of warning. Good.

 

With an open palm brought close to his face, the exposed skin of the male's pretty hand is what met his pair of lips just now.

 

An almost, if not the subtlest form of submission he can muster, unlike the usual loud proclaiming of his.

 

A brush of a kiss.

 

"This? Just a gesture I learned down there"

 

'My life is in your hands' always.

  
-

 

He had done it again, when they were in that dimension of his and spending the night of summer festival memories together. Such peculiarity and he lets him.

 

-

 

By this point, it has become a habit of some sort, even as the once white-coloured attire had give away into a darker, sombre colour. The man persist of keeping this innocent act even though their flesh had taste one another in the most obscene ways.

 

-

  
His throat was parched, partly due to the amount of time he spent without moisting his vocal chord, or it could also be because there's also the duration spent without having that body part oh his. The last time when he lost his voice was during those lust haze days.

 

Hm.

 

The edge of the stiches of his nape no longer itches for he had grown to ignore them.

 

"So you've waited for this long", it was a bit weird, listening to a voice that supposed to be his but with a little edge to it.

 

"Down to the very last second..."

 

His cold and piercing blue eyes look straight into deep red ones. He wondered if this man can still shiver under his gaze, like he admitted on so many occassions long ago.

 

"I've prepared for you...your tower of Babel..."

 

Indeed he has. Built from the very remains of countless others, in his wake erect an establishment that can reach towards the sky.

 

And crush it.

 

Oh Belial is going to have a field trip if he founds out that he just made a gratituous sexual innuendo just now.

 

Given that he's able to do so.

 

The man was left sprawling all over the floor. Or what's left of him. Beaten and exposed, even his once magnificent blackened wings was reduced to skeletal frames with shreded flesh. Looking down at him from this angle, Lucilius feel like he could just step at him and the brat would still laugh and lick at his boots, smiling and proclaim how his maker is making him harder than ever.

 

So instead he kneels down, hovering above the torso, and let the edge of his attire soaked in the red blood on the ground.

 

"You did great, Belial" that almost alienated voice speaks in a way devoid of any portrayal of emotions, yet it made the demon under him alighted.

 

"Oh, Fa-san~ You always...set me alight...fire of my loins..."

 

That gaze fiercely met his, renewed vigor of excitement and rush of madness despite being the last ember that sparks inside a burning ash, before softening up to that of a melancholic sentimentality.

 

With the last remnant of his strength, the fallen angel reach out to take his beloved's hand and his mouth seek altar on the skin slightly above the inner wrist.

 

"Take it...and let me see...from your eyes...the view of the world...that we are going to burn down together...Lucilius..."

 

Fingers rub on those pair of lips as they spoke their last syllable and that ember is no more. Then his other hand move towards the man's chest, digs into the flesh, and pulls out a blackened piece of core. It's really been awhile since he last see this. What used to be the colour of crystal clear that he sees in that garden years ago was tainted with a speck of pitch black dust that he dug out from himself and put into it. Now it covered every inch of the core, not leaving any space untouched. It will be the same as his own. A mirror.

 

With the crumbling of what's left of the fallen primarch into dust, Lucilius took it upon himself to merge this core into his own, along with the other one that he had harvested from his dear friend.

 

"Since _you_ are watching this, let's all find out what really makes the colour of your sky, shall we"

 

Instead of the small, sorry excuse of underdeveloped pieces of feathery limbs, wings of black, white, and grey sprouted out from behind the Astral's back.

 

And he leapt into the air like the harbringer of chaos he is.


End file.
